


I Never Said I Was Sorry

by Indieblue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sex, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indieblue/pseuds/Indieblue
Summary: He shows up on her doorstep, soaked to the skin and barely coherent, convinced he has to apologize for a wrong he’s done her, one that has shattered her life.  The only problem is, it never happened. Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott try to untangle threads of time travel and alternate universes. If they fix the knots he’s caused, she’ll die.  If they don’t, he will.





	1. Wrong Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Colubrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colubrina/gifts).



> Hello!!  
> This is the first thing I've posted on here, but I've been posting on ffnet (same username) for a while. I'm going to be posting on there and here from now on :)
> 
> I entirely blame this on the amazing and wonderful Colubrina. Basically on October 1st, 2016, there was a thing on tumblr where Collie had people send her asks with fic titles and pairings, for which she would write a summary for the fic that she would never write. My muse of course loved the summary and I may have yelled at Collie about it, and she was perhaps an enabler and encouraged me to write it. So, here we are.
> 
> Just a heads up, this story is going to be written in the present tense. Which can be weird for some people and I just wanted to forewarn everyone.
> 
> My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

 “Where did you get it?” Hermione asks softly.

  The man across from her at her kitchen table shoots her a remorseful look, as if trying to speak volumes to her with his ice blue eyes. His hair is dripping- _drip, drop, drip_ -his clothes are drying, but he’s still drenched.

  Outside thunder rumbles and tumbles and rolls about the turbulent, angry sky. The rain is pouring, assaulting the earth heavily, pounding across her slate grey roof shingles of her humble cottage out in the countryside.

  She hadn’t asked how he found her home, not after his story. However brief and vague it was. Her mind drifts as she remembers the last hour.

   _There is a soft, incessant knocking at the door. Who could that be? Hermione asks herself. The storm is raging outside, you’d have to be barmy to be out in this weather._

_She gets up from the kitchen table, her chair scraping slightly against the floorboards in the process. She leaves the kitchen and rounds the corner, very aware of her wand tucked behind her ear._

_The brass doorknob is icy to the touch and she can hear the wind whistling through the door, and she can feel it hissing at the bottoms of her feet through the small crack at the bottom of her door._

_Hermione opens the door quickly, bracing herself for the cold-pulling her white, thick woollen cardigan around her body tighter with her other hand._

_The figure in front of her is taller than her, though his shoulders are hunching forward as if he’s trying to curl in on himself. The rain is hitting his back, his wet, dark curls are slick against his skin, sticking to his forehead. His head is bowed and there are water droplets gathered on his eyelashes, and dripping from his long, slightly crooked nose._

_He’s got a lean but muscular build, and his black outer robes are clinging to him, hugging him like a second skin so she can see all the contours of his body, the collar is flipped up-most likely to help protect him from the elements._

_He tilts his head up to look at her and she sees that he has a strong, sharp jaw. She freezes in her tracks when their eyes meet. His ice blue eyes. An electric shock races across her bones when her warm brown ones stare into his._

_He was in her year at school, but why was he here? Especially in this kind of nasty weather. There's something else about him, something familiar that goes far beyond simply being in the same year-occasionally sharing classes and passing each other in corridors every once in awhile. She has no idea what it is, but it is unsettling and a big part of her wishes she never opened the door. Another wishes that she could figure out why he looks so sad._

_Before she registers what's happening his hand is close to her cheek, and there's a soft yet indiscernible expression on his face. She flinches, inadvertently taking a step back and his hand halts where it is. Falling dumbly back to his side a moment later._

_“Your scar is gone,” he says softly, his voice almost lost in the rain and wind. Then his eyes widen a fraction. “Dammit. This was a mistake.”_

_He turns to leave, and unthinkingly she surges forward, grasping onto his wet sleeve, the rain attacking her exposed arm and she shivers at how frigid the rain is._

_“What was a mistake? What scar? You're Theodore Nott right? We went to school together?”_

_Theo only frowns deeper, nodding curtly and he angles his head to his left and she heard him mutter under his breath, “wrong time.”_

_“Wrong time? What in Merlin’s name are you on about?” Hermione demands, letting go of him and retreating back into the sanctity of her home, away from the harsh elements._

_“I think it best if I leave now-”_

_“For fuck’s sake, just come in and we can talk more, get you out of this horrible weather,” Hermione says in a stern tone, stepping out of the way and gesturing for him to enter._

_He shoots her an apologetic look before he steps inside, small puddles pooling at his feet on her nice, light hardwood floors. She grimaces a touch and makes a mental note to clean it up when he’s in one spot and not moving about anymore._

_“Just go into the kitchen, I’ll be right there,” Hermione commands, being careful not to step in any water as she shuts the door, bolting it and locking it back._

_If she knew then what she knew now, she may have turned him away, and let him walk out of her life...but she hadn’t and now she had to deal with the repercussions._

  Hermione sighs softly through her nostrils, and repeats her question because he has yet to speak again. “Where did you get it?”

  An emotion she isn't able to read flies across his features, fleeing as quickly as it came before he says softly-his deep voice almost comforting somehow - “from you, Hermione.”

 


	2. Time turner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dears!!  
> I'm so glad everyone's liked this so much! I really hope you all enjoy this chapter.  
> I'm not entirely sure where this is going to go in the future, but I am having a lot of fun thus far :D  
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think ;)  
> My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com  
> For Colubrina xxx

   Theo had wanted things to be different, he desperately clung to the notion that somehow everything was going to get better. It hadn’t. Things had taken a turn for the worse.

   He wasn't sure if it was pity, or some kind of morbid curiosity-but Hermione paid him a visit at least once week after his trial. She was the only one; any friends he had left were on house arrest themselves, or not permitted to visit him.

  There was always a gentle look in her eyes, she didn't hate him, she didn't see him as the enemy.

  Which made it all the easier, and deep down, to the core of his being, it made it _harder_ too. He knew that the Ministry still had a time turner or two lying around, and he _knew_ that Hermione had one. He wasn't proud that he had peeked in on her floo call a few days ago, as she berated someone about messing something up, and he saw it. It fell free from where she concealed it beneath her blouse, it was right there. It was just too easy.

  So why did his chest tighten, and his throat close whenever he thought about stealing it away.

  His Great-Grandfather’s book didn't help either. Once his family had owned its own time turner, and his great-grandfather was fascinated, _obsessed_ with time.

  In Theo’s boredom, he spent his days mainly perusing their vast library, the books were his only companions these days. He could escape in them, learn, imagine a place that wasn't as cold and lonely as this one. One where he could be free.

 That was when he found it, shoved behind another book, dust covering it. The small, black leather bound book had changed _everything._ His entire world was tossed upside down, he had a way out. A way to be free from the invisible shackles that kept him confined in this cold, quiet-too quiet-prison.

 The scribbles inside were cursive and some notes were almost illegible-most likely due to the urgency in which they were written with. With others, each loop looked as if it had been given incredible attention, every dot was placed with care. The diagrams were intricate, then some drawings looked half-assed and done in haste. Some notes trailed off, never to be picked up again, and some theories and ideas spanned page after page. There was but one page at the end of the thick book that was left blank, with the exception of: _This notebook belongs to Thoros Nott II._

 Theo thought of his own Father when he was finished devouring the book-he was entranced by its contents, he had barely slept, he had managed to scrounge up a bit of food here and there, he showered when his smell was sour to his own senses; he’d never been so unkempt and out of control of his person in his whole life as he was in those few days. Theodus Nott wasn't an unkind Father, but his Mother’s death had hollowed out any feelings in his soul, and he was bitter about every and anything.

  Despite all of that, he had been the only family Theo had left, and now he was gone. Gone, gone, _gone_.

  All he needed to fix things now was a time turner, and then Hermione’s appeared like fate or whatever other ridiculous notion one wanted to call it. Theo had never believed in fate or any of that nonsense, but he couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity.

  It was a somber day, the sky was a flat grey, the air was still, yet the cold crept into the house, digging its way into the very fibre of Nott Manor.

 The ball of dread in his stomach only seemed to twist itself into knots, and cause him to experience sharp stabs of pain. Theo was going to use the only person who had shown him any kindness in a _very_ , long time. That thought circled around the rest of his errant musings for the entire day until she got there, and only got louder as she poured him a cup of tea, and it screamed shrilly when he reached up and snatched the time turner from around her neck.

 He would never forget the surprised look on her face, how her features contorted with confusion and betrayal.

  With his Great-Grandfather’s book in his robes pocket, he turned the time turner once, and then Hermione was gone.

  She was gone, and he had stolen her time turner.

   _There’s no going back,_ Theo insisted to himself, tossing aside the protesting voice in his head. He was going to go back and fix everything. It was all going to be okay.

  How could he had known then, that he couldn’t have been more wrong. How could he have known that most of what was to follow would only be misery, pain and suffering, with sprinkles, a dusting of joy and happiness. How could he have known?

* * *

   “I gave you a time turner?” Hermione asks in disbelief, brow puckered.

  Theo looks into the brown eyes that he loves, but he knows to her, he is simply a stranger. The smiling face that he wishes, _wishes_ , he could see once more is gone, and he doubts he shall ever see it again. The one where she looks at him adoringly, with a heart swollen with love.

   _No. That will never happen again,_ Theo thinks wistfully, with a wry twist of his lips, and there’s no one to blame but himself.

  “Yes, Hermione. I got the time turner from you,” Theo answers. She doesn’t need to know that he stole it from her, plus he didn’t lie, he did receive it from Hermione, even if it wasn’t given willingly.

 “I see-” Hermione purses her lips, “-wait, so you know me in the original timeline you’re from?”

 “I’ve known you in many different timelines, Hermione,” Theo says softly. Somehow their fates always end up entangled-he can’t say it doesn’t exist anymore, fate, or at least not with as much conviction as he used to. Too many things have happened, things that make no sense. His entire world has crumbled in front of his eyes on more occasions than he had ever thought possible.

  “Many _different_ timelines?” Hermione exclaims, but he sees _the_ look in her eyes, she’s eager to hear more about it, but she won’t ever say it aloud. Some things will never change, even if the smaller things about her do, the big things seem to remain unchanged. Which only makes it harder each time.

  “How old are you, Hermione?” Theo asks, cocking his head to the side, some of his damp bangs falling into his eyes.

  “Twenty...why?” Hermione asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

   _Twenty_ , Theo rolls the number around in his mind, she’s younger than he anticipated. He may know a lot about time, but he doesn’t know everything, and it’s not an exact science.

  She looks beautiful as always, her wild, honey brown curls pulled up into a high ponytail, a few wisps escaping and framing her face, warm brown eyes, dusty rose coloured lips. She’s slim, but with enough curves for him to dig his fingers into. Theo shakes his head slightly at the thought, he can’t think about her like that anymore, he has no right. Short yet slender fingers, with short nails-otherwise they are bothersome-though there was turquoise nail polish on her nails.

  She is wearing a navy blue camisole, an oversized white, woollen cardigan and a pair of black shorts that show off her creamy, lovely legs, and her feet are bare.

  “Why?” Hermione repeats.

  “I was just curious about our age difference in this time,” Theo smiles softly.

  “Our age-how old are you?” Hermione leans forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table.

  “With all of the time travel I’ve done-which I think ages you, and the amount of time I’ve spent in various timelines…” Theo pauses, thinking about it. He’d stopped keeping track a while ago. “Probably almost twenty-six.”

  “Twenty-six!” Hermione exclaims, looking at him with wide eyes and a perplexed expression. “Just how many timelines have you jumped around in?”

 Now that is a difficult question, one he isn’t entirely sure how to answer.

  Theo pauses, his mouth twisting to the side. “See. I used to think that time was rigid, that no matter what you did, you couldn't change things that much. Since whatever you did, you had already done, and would always end up doing,” Theo says softly, carefully studying her.

  Hermione raises her eyebrows, as if to communicate that she wishes him to continue his thought.

  Theo takes a small intake of breath before continuing, “I was wrong. There are loopholes, gaps, spaces where things disconnect and weave themselves back together constantly. Time is perpetually changing-unravelling and sewing itself back together, in a constant state of motion.”

  “I found some areas where said loopholes exist,” Theo reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, black leather bound book. Surprisingly it is bone dry, and he opens it gently, with care-it is his constant companion, the one thing that never changes. He caresses the pages-yellowed with age-before turning the page; just to feel its texture beneath his fingertips.

  “This book originally belonged to my Great-Grandfather, he was fascinated by time...and I discovered it in the Nott library after the War.”

  Theo smiles almost mockingly then, staring down at the book, closing it, and then he strokes its cover tenderly. “Of course all of my relatives were dead by then, and seeing as I was on house arrest by order of the Ministry...I had some time on my hands. Which is why I began to explore the parts of the library my Father had forbidden me from entering when I was younger.”

 Hermione isn't sure where she comes into play here, but she remains silent, intently listening. Part of her is curious though, she doesn’t recall Theo on the list of prior Death Eaters.

  “I had an out,” Theo says then, barely a utterance of sound, barely a murmur. As if he’s ashamed of what he’s done. “I had a way to take it all back. All the horror and pain I had endured...but you can never take it back, not really,” Theo laughs harshly.

  “What did you do?” Hermione asks, looking at him with such earnest eyes.

  “I went back in time and I changed the past. When I returned to the new present, I was free...but-” Theo falters, and his mocking smile twists into a grimace.

  “But what?”

  “Someone I cared about died instead,” Theo says softly.

  “Who?” Hermione presses, and Theo sighs heavily. He remembers how hopeless he felt when he discovered the awful truth about what his changes had done. He was free, but one of the only people he cared about was dead as a result.

  “Draco Malfoy.” 

 


	3. I Will Fix It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!!  
> Is it just past 2 AM? Why yes it is. Why am I still up you may ask? Well that is because the muse insisted.  
> She's left me high and dry for days, but she decided to let me finish chapter 3, and write out chapter 4.  
> I think I shall post both of them now to make up for how long it's been since I last posted.  
> Do I know what I'm doing with this story? Probably not, I'm just enjoying the ride and writing this one as I go. I have literally no idea what happens after chapter 5 aside from a "small" scene I want to write somewhere down the line. Am I having a blast? Heck yeah.  
> As always, this is for my darling Collie xxx  
> My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

_ Interesting _ .  _ So whatever timeline I travel to, I essentially become Theodore Nott _ , Theo thinks with intrigue. Part of him wonders what happened to the old Theo, but he shakes the thought from his mind. It isn't important.

  The euphoria he felt when he had first arrived in this timeline was electrifying. Magic crackled at his fingertips, and he felt like he could do anything.

  That all changed the day Blaise came to visit.

_   The soft morning light shines in gap in between the bedroom drapes. A young wizard is buried under a mountain of thick duvets. _

_  It may be bright and sunny during the day, but it was below freezing most days, the icy rain was a certainly a testament to that. _

_  Theo had shaken his head when it began to hail a few days ago, whilst the sun shone mockingly in the sky. _

_  It was bizarre, and he wasn't certain if it was because this was a different timeline and this universe, or if it was simply because the weather could be quite contrary at times. _

_  The slumbering wizard jolts awake at the steady sound of sure footsteps. Getting closer, closer, closer. _

_   He pushes back some of the covers, hissing at the frigid air that swoops in as his warmth hurriedly dissipates. His ice blue eyes search frantically for his wand, which he finds on the bedside table. _

_  He grabs it just as the door knob twists. The time turner hidden behind his shirt grows hot against his bare just for a brief, brilliant moment. _

_   Theo’s heart is racing. He hadn’t met anyone from this time yet. His Father had still died, and  _ **_this_ ** _ Theo had released all of their House Elves from service shortly thereafter. _

_   He had been revelling in solace whilst knowing that he was free, he had planned on going to see his mates later today in fact. _

__ One thing Theo learned in the next few minutes, is even though he became that dimension’s Theo is that often, not all of the memories come back at once. Some of them have to be pointed out before he became conscious of them, others would come of their own volition in time.

  Another thing he learned was that he still aged, no matter what, and even if he went back in time, he remained the same age as he had been previously.

_   A dark skinned wizard pushes the bedroom door open, a radiant smile showcasing his rows of white teeth spreads across his face upon seeing that Theo is awake; Theo immediately lowers his wand. _

_   Blaise Zabini. _

_   Theo hasn't seen him in months, but it feels like it was just yesterday. Time seems to melt away in the Italian's presence. _

_   Dark, wavy curls, dark chocolate brown eyes, strong yet slender features. Shorter than Theo by a couple inches, exceeding charming, and always good for a laugh.  _

_   Blaise has been one of his best mates since they were little, and he’s glad to see that that hasn't changed in this time. _

_   “Theo! Mate, what’ve you been doing the last few days?” Blaise exclaims, striding into the room, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets as he moved. _

_  “I felt a bit funny, so I decided to take a few days to rest and see what happens,” Theo answers easily. _

_  “Ah, shite. You feeling better now?” Blaise asks with a tiny frown, stopping beside the bed. _

_  “Yea. Loads.” _

_   Something is nagging at the back of his mind, and he can't place it. It's like Blaise’s mere presence is drudging up some distant memory. _

_  The words spill out of his mouth before he knows why, “where is Draco?” _

_  Blaise’s pleasant expression crumbles into pain, contorting into deep grief and his hands shake a little as he cocks his head at Theo. _

_   Then he doesn't need to ask, he doesn't need Blaise to make an utterance of sound. _

_  It's simply  _ **_there_ ** _ , like the dust has been polished away from a grimy windowpane and he’s able to clearly stare out at the barren wasteland before him. _

_  Draco is gone. Draco is dead. Voldemort himself did it in anger right before the Battle of Hogwarts. _

_  His whole world is suddenly struck grey, colourless. What good is being free if one of his best mates is now dead. One of the only people he has left that truly cares what happens to him. _

_  He doesn't register that Blaise is talking, and barely feels the contact of the other boy’s skin on his as Blaise places a hand on his shoulder. _

_  He  _ **_has_ ** _ to fix this. He has to. Theo clenches his jaw, and electric blue eyes meet confused brown ones. He will fix it. _


	4. Death Is Around The Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mixed feelings about this chapter, because it's either pretty good, or utter rubbish. Hopefully though you all like it!! (It could also be that it's 2 AM and I'm tired and not sure about much of anything at the moment. It's been quite a day.)  
> Again, for my wondrous friend Collie xxx  
> My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

_   Merry laughter, a bright smile, sunshine shining through the window blazing across everything and dappling their bedsheets. _

_  He groans as he rubs at his eye, trying to rid himself of the exhaustion from working late the night prior. A warm smile etching itself onto his features when she smacks the pillow into his side. _

_  He grins triumphantly as he catches her wrist as she aims to swing again, tugging her down towards him, and the pillow gets wedged between them. _

_  Theo pushes the pillow out of the way, and now they're laying along each other, legs tangled up, sheets wrapping around their bodies. _

_   She is only in her knickers and one of his t-shirts and he is wearing a pair of black boxers. _

_  She's so close that he can see all the little details in her face, the tiny crinkles by her eyes, the almost honey gold colour flecks in her irises.  _

_  She breathes out softly before tilting her head and kissing him soundly. The kiss is brief but he can tell that she’s trying to say something. _

_   She leans back, a curl falling in her face, and she's averting her gaze from his. Theo turns his head to kiss the inside of her wrist, and she blows out a heavy sigh through her nostrils. _

_   “How do you always know when something’s wrong?” Hermione asks with a furrowed brow-it's a rhetorical question and she knows it. _

_  He doesn't need to say it's because he’s gotten to know her in several different times and in many different ways; she already knows. _

_  “Love...what's wrong?” Theo asks, his free hand moving to rub her back soothingly. _

_  “I wouldn't say anything is wrong...well. I guess it depends on your reaction, though, to be fair. I am not wholly to blame for any of this. It takes two to tango and...bloody hell, did I just say that? I did-” _

_  Theo shoots Hermione a look, and she cuts herself off. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath-he can feel her chest rising and falling-and those warm, velvety chocolate eyes are looking into his once more. _

_  For some reason the sun seems to get brighter, and pours across her, illuminating her, and she seems to glow around her edges and curves. _

_  She twists her mouth to the side and says the words that he never thought he would hear, “I’m pregnant.” _

* * *

  He can't breathe, he jolts awake, grasping at his chest, covered in a cold sweat.

  His eyes dart around in a panic, barely taking in the small, mainly unfurnished room-all that's in it, is the dirty mattress he’s sleeping on, an oil lamp in the corner beside it and a small pile of books on the other side of the room.

 He tries to slow down his racing heart rate, to get a grasp on where,  _ when _ he is. Nothing makes sense, his vision is blurring in and out of focus, and he can still feel  _ her _ touch on his skin. He’s still seeing her eyes, her warm,  _ loving _ eyes.

  The dim light that's filtering in through the gaps in the boarded up window-the sole one in the room-isn't much help.

  For a moment he can't feel his limbs, especially not his appendages, it's all numb and he tries to consciously think about moving them.

  Theo throws all of his focus into it,  _ move  _  a finger,  _ wiggle _ his toes.

  Eventually it helps him get a grasp of reality, at least on  _ this  _ reality. Feeling slowly ebbs back into his body, and his heaving chest begins to rise and fall naturally.

  His mouth is dry, his throat feels scratchy and like sandpaper was shoved down it, scraping away at his insides as it went down. He can't remember the last time he had any water.

_ Which is funny, since I was covered in it last night _ , Theo thinks dryly, recalling when he is. The memories from this timeline have been slow to surface, dragging their feet as they hesitantly reveal themselves.

  Hermione’s house last night. A storm. Telling her everything. It all floods back, and his fingers dig into the thin blanket that is pooling around his hips.

  A tiny bead of sweat runs from the dip in between his collarbones down his bare chest, getting caught in his bellybutton.

 He steadies himself by running through what he  _ does _ know about this timeline, however little that actually is.

 Theo doesn't have a plan this time, the last few timelines have all been dreadful, messy and a blur of misfortune.

  He hasn't felt this lost, this helpless in a really long time. Seeing Hermione last night had given him back a spark of hope, but he couldn't hold onto it, grasp at it like a parched man desperate for but a drop of water.

  Theo can’t get attached this time, he can't. He just needs to keep her safe, even though he knows if she lives, then he will most likely die.

  Theo chokes down a bitter laugh, when he’d gone forward in time during this timeline, it hadn't been too hard to find out that Theodore Nott had died years ago. Which means this may be the end of the line. 

  Somehow, he’s landed here, with little to no knowledge about current affairs, who’s alive and who’s dead (aside from himself), and the only concrete thing he knows is that  _ this  _ Theo lives in a broken down shack for some reason. Well, that and that Hermione is alive.

  Theo sighs heavily, reaching up to rub at an old ache in his left shoulder,  _ this ought to be a fucking picnic, I’m sure this will be marvellous. Just peachy. _

  Theo falls back onto the mattress and stares at the wooden ceiling, and wonders-for the first time in a considerable amount of time-what is going to happen to him.


End file.
